Workout - Worked Up
by Little Cinch
Summary: A chance encounter at the gym leads to a different kind of workout. A/R all the way. Rated M for adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the third and last BSG fic from back in the day. I like it, so I'm posting it here. It's broken into several short chapters, all of which will be uploaded today. Definitely rated M for adult themes, by which I mean old people sex.**

**I have no ownership of anything from or related to _Battlestar Galactica_. I just like it, so I wrote stuff about it.**

* * *

Admiral Adama stalked down the corridors of _Galactica_ in search of his son. During quieter moments in his cabin, he felt the rift that had grown between them as an ache in his heart. But moments like these were for irritation, not sorrow. Lee was not answering calls on the comm system, forcing the Admiral to go searching.

Scuttlebutt was that Lee had been seen working out in _Galactica's_ gym, so that was where the Admiral was headed. With each step that took him closer to the gym, his anger grew. He tried to mash down his rising temper, knowing that he needed to keep the well deserved ass-chewing from becoming an ass-kicking. As he swung abruptly through the gym's open hatch, he jerked back hard to avoid colliding with someone else coming through the doorway. Automatically, he reached out to steady her.

"Admiral! You seem to be in quite a hurry to get here, for someone who's not dressed for a workout," Laura Roslin looked up at him with twinkling green eyes and grinned.

Adama froze at the sight of her – tousled and flushed and smiling up at him. She had clearly just finished a workout. She was dressed in _Galactica_ issue tanks and sweats someone must have let her borrow. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, with several escaped strands curling around her face. Her skin – skin he was unaccustomed to seeing – was pink and glowing with a fine sheen of sweat. He could feel the heat coming off her body in waves. She looked wild, strong, and sexy, and absolutely beautiful. Suddenly he was very aware of her bare shoulders under his hands, and that he must have been staring because her smile was gone, and there was a tiny crease between her eyebrows. He jerked his hands back, probably more quickly than was polite, and cleared his throat.

"Is something wrong, Admiral?" she asked.

"No! No. I was – uh – looking for Lee. Is he here?"

"You missed him. He left a while ago, I think." She paused and tilted her head. "Are you sure you're all right? You look...distressed. Is it Lee? Did you have another argument?"

Adama shifted uncomfortably. His anger with Lee had evaporated the moment he laid eyes on the President, but he was far from calm. "Sort of."

Laura leaned in close and put a gentle hand on his sleeve. It burned him even through the heavy wool. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll work it out," she said softly. She patted his arm and walked through the hatch, her marine guard following.

Adama stepped into the hall to watch her go until she disappeared around a corner. He sagged back against the bulkhead just outside of the gym and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her sweat-slicked skin under his hands and breathe in the lingering scent of her, warm and arousing. He wrenched his eyes open and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed him.

"Dammit," he grumbled. He pushed off from the wall and headed for his quarters, scowling all the way. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything now. Lee would never know what a lucky break he caught.

* * *

President Roslin was taking Doc Cottle's advice to heart. She had been working out regularly in _Galactica's_ gym and surprised herself by discovering she liked it. She'd just finished releasing the day's frustration with the Quorum on the heavy bag and was headed for the shower when she nearly collided with someone barreling into the gym. Admiral Adama pulled up short and reached out to put steadying hands on her shoulders. He was clearly in a mood and didn't even seem to really see her.

"Admiral! You seem to be in quite a hurry to get here, for someone who's not dressed for a workout," she teased, smiling.

He looked down at her and...stopped. She felt his grip on her shoulders tighten and saw something she couldn't identify flicker and shift behind his eyes. She thought back quickly to determine if she had done anything lately to really piss him off, but she could think of nothing. His stare was unsettling. Suddenly his jaw tightened and he snatched his hands back as though burned.

She ventured a question, "Is something wrong, Admiral?"

"No!" he snapped. Then less tightly, "No. I was – uh – looking for Lee. Is he here?"

Ah. Lee. Things had been distant and cool lately between the Admiral and his son. "You missed him. He left a while ago, I think." She paused, unsure if she should press him. "Are you sure you're all right? You look...distressed. Is it Lee? Did you have another argument?"

Adama moved restlessly and would not meet her eyes. "Sort of," he said. He clearly didn't want to talk about this here.

Laura stepped closer and when she touched him, his arm twitched and his body tensed, as though trying not to pull away from her. Feeling awkward and uncertain, she mumbled something she hoped was reassuring and quickly left the Admiral behind.

As she walked down the hallway, she decided Adama's problem wasn't with Lee. And though she still couldn't think of any reason for him to be angry with her, his reactions to her seemed to indicate he was. She sighed. She would have to go sort this out with him as soon as she got cleaned up. She was certainly not at her presidential best at the moment. _Oh Gods_, she thought as a hand drifted up to touch the damp tendrils of hair around her face. Normally she wasn't overly concerned with her appearance as long as she looked tidy and professional as befitted a woman of her position. But suddenly she realized just how awful she must look in her sloppy clothes, drenched in sweat – possibly the exact opposite of tidy and professional. She felt oddly exposed knowing the Admiral had seen her completely stripped of her President's armor. Despite their friendship (and because of it), Laura never allowed herself to be completely open in front of him no matter how relaxed and comfortable they became. If he saw her as just Laura, she might then see him as just Bill. She couldn't risk that.

She realized she had drifted to a stop in the corridor. Her marine guard waited patiently behind her, trying hard not to look like he was wondering what in the world she was doing. She gave him an apologetic smile and started walking again, hurrying toward her guest quarters.

Once she was safely shut inside the cabin, she immediately began stripping off the offending clothes as she made her way to the tiny head, letting shoes, tanks, and sweats fall where they may. She stepped into the shower to scrub away the sweat and the smell and begin reassembling her professional armor.


	2. Chapter 2

**I own nothing. Please don't sue me.**

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Bill Adama reached the hatch to his quarters, but didn't open it. He stood scowling at the door trying to sort through the jumble in his head. The blood in his veins was on fire, and a knot of heat was tangling itself in his belly. He couldn't remember the last time he was so badly rattled. And why? Because of a woman. Granted, an attractive woman he respected and liked. A woman who would help shape the future of the remainder of their race. A woman he considered a close friend. A woman he trusted. A woman he loved.

Wait...

Well, of course he loved her, he thought grumpily. Just like he loved Saul and Starbuck and all the other members of his family here on _Galactica_. He pursed his lips and carefully avoided thinking too much about that.

But seeing her today had caught him off guard. Usually he was able to prepare himself for seeing her – school his thoughts toward the chaste and dignified. If his eyes lingered on her legs more often than was strictly professional, or if he found pleasure in watching her when she wasn't looking, well, that was just natural. She was an attractive woman, after all.

But today...today was different. He had nearly run her over in that doorway, but the force of her strength and beauty had run him down instead. He needed to go see her. If he could just talk to her about something ordinary, some bit of fleet business, he could see the Laura Roslin he was accustomed to – and shake the image of her as the fiercely beautiful woman in the gym. If he couldn't get that back, he would be unable to focus on anything else.

Adama stopped in front of the private cabin that had been set aside for the President's use. He hadn't even been aware of the walk here. The marine guarding the door nodded a greeting. Adama took a deep breath to settle the twisting in his stomach, then knocked firmly on the hatch. After a moment with no response, he knocked again, glancing to the guard to confirm that the President was in fact at home. Perhaps she was napping? He frowned and considered what to do. There was no way he could function in CIC like this, and if he returned to his cabin, he would surely drive himself crazy.

Bill decided to take a chance. Stepping through the hatch, he could make out the sound of the shower running, answering the question of why she hadn't answered the door. He closed and locked the hatch behind him. He kicked something as he turned back toward the room. He looked down and saw a single sneaker. His eyes traveled across the floor and one by one touched on each of the other discarded articles of clothing. Heat flooded through him as images flashed into his mind of Laura Roslin peeling off her clothes while walking toward the shower. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to quell the vision, but only succeeded in replacing it with another, this time of Laura Roslin in the shower. A strangled noise escaped him at the thought of her warm and wet and slick with soap.

"Bill!" Her voice cut through him like razor wire. His eyes snapped open to see Laura Roslin in the doorway to the head, clearly startled and dripping wet, wrapped in a towel. Her damp hair was like black fire, curling in the humidity. She stood stock still, staring back at him, and dripping water everywhere. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He must have looked like an idiot, gaping at her like an adolescent, but he couldn't move. She flushed pink under his open gaze, the color high on her cheeks. She drew herself up, wrapped the towel tighter around herself, and said, "Admiral Adama. I wasn't expecting you."

Her presidential demeanor jolted him out of his trance. Adama closed his mouth with a snap and tore his eyes away. He was grateful for his olive skin, since he was sure he would be blushing as furiously as she otherwise. "Madam President, please excuse me. I didn't mean – I had no intention of... I'm sorry. I knocked...," he finished lamely.

Clearly the clothes didn't make the woman in President Roslin's case. Wearing nothing but a towel, she somehow managed to maintain more calm dignity than if she were wearing the most conservative suit in the fleet. "It's all right, Admiral. If you give me a moment to get changed, we can discuss whatever brought you here. I was planning to come speak with you anyway." She scooped up the small travel bag near the rack and disappeared back into the head.

She dried off as quickly as possible and scrambled into her skirt and blouse, smoothing out the rumples as much as possible. Her armor needed to be flawless. If he was hunting her down for a meeting without arranging it in their busy schedules, he must be royally pissed after all. She brushed out her hair, but it was hopeless; it would be hours before it dried. She put her hands on either side of the washbasin and blew out a breath. She looked up and considered her reflection in the small mirror. A towel. He'd walked in on her wearing nothing but a towel. Talk about looking non-presidential. It had been a long time since she'd been so flustered. Of course the Admiral had looked pretty out of sorts as well – served him right for walking in on her! She smiled, thinking of the look on his face when he saw her. He'd looked as shocked as she'd felt, staring openly at her. Suddenly she wasn't so sure about that look. A hot little coil wound tight inside her as she remembered his eyes on her. Those eyes had been intense.

She pushed back from the sink and shook her head. Getting crazy in her old age. Or at least far too lonely in her nonexistent sex life.

Firmly pushing those thoughts aside, she pulled on her jacket, nearly completing her armor. Maybe she'd get lucky and Adama would have left in embarrassment. At the very least, maybe the awkwardness would have made him forget whatever he was mad about. Not likely, but she could hope. Looking around the floor of the head she realized she hadn't brought her shoes in with her. Well, she'd just have to be presidential without shoes, then, dammit.

President Roslin opened the door of the head and stepped out. Adama was sitting on the couch, but he didn't seem relaxed. His fingers were tightly laced, and his face was hard, locked in a scowl. He was glaring at the floor as though it had just declared allegiance with the cylons. Apparently he was still angry with her after all. Crap. Well, better just get on with it.

"So, Admiral, what are you so bothered about all of a sudden?"

His head snapped up and their eyes met. The fire in that look made her suck in a breath and fall back half a step. Just as suddenly, his eyes left hers and skimmed the length of her body down to her feet. Her mouth fell open, but she wasn't sure what to say. What the hell had just happened?

"...Admiral?"

He took a long time before speaking. "We need to discuss some fleet business. The medical supplies requisition for the _Astral Queen_ and changes in the shift rotation for the refinery workers."

"We need...wait – what?"

He shifted on the couch so his body was facing hers, but his eyes remained at her feet. A strange look rippled across his craggy features. "Fleet business. I need to talk to you about fleet business." His voice was rough and unnaturally loud.

She threw her hands up in a halting gesture. "Wait. Bill, _what_ is going on? I thought you were about to tear my head off, but you want to talk about medical supplies and work rotations?" She flopped down on the other end of the couch, leaned back, and rubbed her eyes with one hand. "I'm sorry, Bill, but I'm lost here. Please just tell me what's on your mind."

She looked at him expectantly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Poor Bill. Can't resist the teacher-voice.**

**I don't own any of this.**

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"Please just tell me what's on your mind."

She looked at him expectantly.

Bill felt panic rise as he watched Laura's feet as she stepped over to sit on the couch. He couldn't do it. He couldn't find the President he'd been so desperately looking for. They could talk fleet business all week, but he'd never shake the visions of her that he had seen today. She could wear a suit, and he would see sweats and gleaming shoulders. She could give a speech to the fleet, and he would hear water dripping from her hair to the hard deck beneath her bare feet.

Her legs automatically crossed as she sat, and he couldn't look away. Ever since she came out of the head, he'd been staring at her feet. She was fully dressed in her stuffiest suit and she was pouring on the presidential attitude, but she might as well have been back in the towel, all because of those beautiful bare little feet.

When they worked together in his quarters for long hours, she often slipped off her shoes. Sometimes she curled her toes into his rug, sometimes she tucked her feet up under her where she sat on his couch. He loved seeing her feet those times, but now it was different. They were graceful and feminine and so vulnerably naked. He longed to reach over and stroke her ankle with his fingers. Laura squeaked in surprise, and he realized that his hand had moved of its own accord to satisfy that longing. Her skin was as soft as he had imagined.

"B-Bill?" her voice wavered slightly. He could feel her pulse thrumming in her ankle under his fingertips. He stroked her ankle again gently. She sucked in a breath and shivered, which made him realize just what a dangerous, crazy thing he was doing.

He slowly drew his hand back and scrubbed his face with his palms. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

She regarded him silently for a long time.

Bill stood and began backing toward the hatch. "I should go."

"Please stay. We need to talk."

He continued edging toward the door. "I'm needed in CIC."

"Bill!" her sharp tone halted him in his tracks. "You're needed _here_. I need you to tell me what the hell is going on with you. Now. Sit. Down."

He stood dumbly in place, unable to move either toward the couch or the door. He felt like a stunned animal, caught in the glare of oncoming headlights. This was insane. He'd come here desperate to calm his hormone fueled imagination, but now things were a hundred times worse.

Laura stood and planted herself directly in front of him. She snapped out in her best teacher-voice, "Admiral Adama. You have been acting SO strangely ever since I saw you at the gym. You WILL tell me what's wrong."

"Laura..."

"Don't 'Laura' me! Just spit it out! I thought you were furious with me the way you were glaring and stomping around, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. I was waiting for an argument and instead I got my ankle fondled! Seriously, Bill – what were you thinking?"

"I love your feet." Did he just say that? First his hands were acting all on their own and now things were jumping out of his mouth without checking in with his brain first. "You have beautiful feet."

That stopped her. She blinked and her eyebrows went up. "My feet."

He decided just to spill it. Well, most of it. "Seeing you in the gym...well, I was distracted after that, so I came here to get focused on fleet business, but then you were...then my timing was bad, which made things worse, and then you went to get dr–- um, to get changed, but you came out with no shoes, and all I could think about was your feet." He looked back up at her with a tiny smile. "I love your feet."

Her green eyes were wide as he made his confession, but then her head tipped and her eyes narrowed. "Distracted how?"

Embarrassment now outweighed panic. "Laura..."

"Distracted _how_?"

Surely even his dark complexion was not enough to conceal the blush creeping up his neck. He blew out an exasperated sigh. "You looked different in the gym. Different than I'm used to, I mean. I couldn't think about work because I was thinking about you in your tank top and ponytail. Happy now?"

She smothered a smile as she turned to go sit back on the couch. "Yes, actually. This is much more fun than the ass-chewing I was expecting."

Bill relaxed a bit. She seemed to be taking this with good humor. He might suffer some teasing for a while, but he could live with that. He moved to sit at the other end of the couch.

"My feet, hmm?" Laura stretched her right leg up and out in front of her. She wiggled her toes as she examined her foot critically. "I don't know. They just look like feet to me."

Bill watched her and smiled. "You just don't know what you've got. Those feet are works of art! See?" He leaned forward to cup her heel in one hand and used the other to point out his list of features.

"Perfect little toes." He touched the tip of each one.

"Graceful arch." He smoothed the knuckle of one finger along the curve.

"Delicate ankles." His fingers caressed her ankle much as they had a few moments ago.

"Bill?" Laura breathed.

"Hmm?"

"You're a tease."

"I'm only a tease if I stop," he said.

She paused at this not-quite-question. "I suppose that's true. Let's find out if you're a tease or if I'm a liar."


	4. Chapter 4

**And let the old people smut begin!**

**BSG does not belong to me.**

* * *

"You're a tease."

"I'm only a tease if I stop," he said.

She paused at this not-quite-question. "I suppose that's true. Let's find out if you're a tease or if I'm a liar."

He met her eyes for a long moment before making a decision. His hand reached down to capture her other ankle. As he scooped up her legs (oh, those legs!), he shifted closer on the couch and settled down with her crossed legs draped over his lap. One finger trailed from the bend of her knee, down her shin, all the way to the tip of her big toe. His palm reversed the path back up to just below her knee, then the fingertip began its journey down to her toe again. He watched his own hand trailing down and up her leg, then shifted his gaze to her face.

Laura's eyes were wide and luminous, and color was flooding her cheeks. She was staring intently at the progress his hand was making. As his palm climbed back up her shin, he slid it just above her knee and squeezed. She closed her eyes and made a tiny sound. Gods, that sound shot right through his body to his groin. He suddenly wondered what other sounds she might be encouraged to make.

He reached out and touched her cheek. He knew he was less than articulate when it came to saying how he felt, so he let his eyes tell her what they could and hoped she would understand. Her eyes shone as she leaned forward to meet his lips with her own. He threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of her neck (oh, that hair!) and let himself drown in the feel of her lips on his. She kissed him gently at first, exploring his mouth softly. When she parted her lips, he accepted the invitation, tasting her hungrily with his tongue. Her hands gripped at the front of his uniform jacket. He changed the angle of his attack and kissed her more deeply. She made a little humming moan into his mouth and shifted her legs on his lap, brushing against his rapidly growing erection. Everything he'd been feeling since seeing her in the gym crashed down on him all at once, and the emotional flood rushed through him, mixing with the physical sensations. It was almost too much – the vision of her wild beauty, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her knee gripped in his palm, the scent of her hair still slightly damp from her shower. He kissed her fiercely and dragged her up onto his lap. He left her mouth to explore her jaw and throat, kissing and nibbling and licking his way over all the skin he could reach. Her breath came quickly, and she arched into his touch.

Bill pushed at the lapels of her suit jacket and she shrugged it off. It fell in a heap on the floor somewhere behind her, but neither of them cared. He tore at the buttons of his own jacket, managing to get them open without losing any. He shifted forward enough to get out of the sleeves, and Laura took the opportunity to hitch up her skirt and sit so she straddled his lap. She dragged his tanks up and off him in one rough movement, nearly taking off his nose in the process. While she was distracted with his shirts, he unbuttoned hers and slipped his hands beneath the fabric. She gasped at the sensation of skin on skin and let out a wordless cry when his lips and tongue found the upper curves of her breasts. Her blouse quickly joined the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. He hooked one finger on her bra strap and dragged it off her shoulder, then tugged the cup down so one stiffened nipple was exposed. He brushed his thumb over the peak. The growling moan she made sent a shock of sensation through him. He wanted to learn every one of her sounds and how to provoke each one.

Bill leaned back to look at her. She was exquisite. Arousal had flushed her skin pink. Her breasts were full and beautiful, and she was breathing heavily. Her darkened eyes were fixed intently on his face.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked.

"Laura," he rumbled as he smoothed his hands down her ribs to settle on her hips. He swallowed hard. "If you don't want this, now's the time to say so."

Her eyebrows rose. "Isn't it a little late to be asking?"

"I'm not asking."

Her eyes narrowed, but she smiled. "Bill?" She reached out to capture his face in both hands. She leaned in very close and said, "You don't want to be a tease, do you? Nobody likes a tease. Stop messing around and frak me already. I want this. I want YOU."

He moved his hands from her hips to her ass and squeezed. "Yes, sir, Madam President, sir!"

"Much better!" she laughed as she reached behind her to unclasp her bra.

"Wait." He stilled her hands. "I want to."

Bill pushed her back off his lap and together they rose so they were standing face to face. He put a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her away from him. He pushed her hair over one shoulder, and placed a row of kisses down her exposed neck. He followed the path of his lips again, but this time with tongue and teeth. A shiver coursed through her.

"MmmmBill..." she breathed.

Continuing his efforts on her neck and shoulder, he drew one finger down her spine until he encountered the clasp of her bra. He unhooked it and pushed the straps down her arms. She let it fall to the ground. He reached around her waist and pulled her close, burying his face once again in her neck. She leaned back into him and tilted her head to offer up more territory to explore. Her hand reached up to stroke through his hair. His hands roamed her body – hips, stomach, breasts (oh, those breasts!).

Laura turned in his arms and attacked his mouth. She nibbled and sucked at his lower lip and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Bill made a sound of his own at the feel of her breasts pressed against his bare chest. They stumbled together toward the narrow rack, him fumbling with the zipper of her skirt, her struggling with the clasp of his belt. When they bumped up against the bed, he pushed her back onto it. She leaned back and lifted her hips to allow him to pull off her skirt and underwear. After dropping the last of her clothes to the floor, he let his hands skim up her legs, hips, belly, and breasts, and kissed her soundly.

He pulled back to sit on the edge of the rack and untie his boots with ridiculously shaky hands. While he worked, Laura scooted behind him and pressed herself against his back, her hands smoothing over his shoulders and chest. She nibbled up one earlobe and down the other, nearly ruining any chance he had of untying his laces. He finally got rid of the damn boots and flung them out into the middle of the floor. He quickly removed both pants and shorts and settled himself at her feet.

A raised hand warned her to sit back and keep still. With a quirk of one eyebrow, she leaned back against the pillow. He took a deep breath – he wanted this to be for her and needed to be in control of himself. Bill lifted one of her feet and kissed the arch. His fingers massaged each of her toes. He nibbled up to the inside of her ankle and set his tongue to the little hollow there. She shivered at the sensation. His hands stroked and squeezed her calf, while his lips worked their way up to her knee. She squirmed a little at the tickling of his fingers on the back of her knee, and Bill squashed down a grin as he filed this information away for the future. He turned his attention to the other leg, starting again with her foot – he couldn't leave one neglected! Laura had closed her eyes and made soft sighing sounds as his hands worked up her leg.

Bill eased himself closer, between her knees, and put one hand on each of her thighs. He stroked his palms down toward her hips, then under and back again, massaging and kneading her flesh. The woman had the most spectacular legs, and he'd be damned if he'd pass up the opportunity to enjoy them. Her hands fluttered restlessly on the sheets every time he reached the tops of her thighs.

He lifted one of her legs and draped it over his shoulder. He nuzzled her inner thigh with his lips and tongue, and his fingers traced delicately down the back of her leg and along the curve of her rear. She gasped at the contact and clamped down against his back. He slid a thumb gently over her folds, finding wetness and heat. She moaned and moved fretfully. His fingers stroked and petted all around her, his other hand squeezing her hip, his tongue tasted her thigh, learning her.

At last he stilled his hands. He opened his mouth to let his breath warm her without touching her. The odd not-quite-pressure made her groan and strain her hips forward, asking for him. Bill flicked his tongue out to tease at her, and she responded with a shuddering keen. He slid one finger, then two into her slick, swollen heat. He pushed his tongue harder against her, shifting from light flicking touches to laving strokes. Laura threw her head back. Her hands clenched and unclenched – in the sheets, in his hair, against the skin of her belly and breasts. His free hand slid up from her hip to fondle her breast as much as he could reach. She whimpered at the touch. As he felt her inner muscles begin to tighten around his fingers, he replaced the movements of his tongue with his thumb so he could pull back to watch her. She began to thrash and moan.

"Laura."

Her eyes flew open and lasered into his. Her body rocked with her orgasm – she shook and cried out with the strength of it, and all the time, her eyes locked with his, sharing it with him.

Before, Bill had thought that Laura in the gym was the most beautiful thing he would ever see. Clearly he had been mistaken. That image was lovely, but seemed pale next to how she looked now – sweating and flushed, eyes wide and slightly unfocused, hair hopelessly tangled, and panting to catch her breath.

She flung herself back to flop onto the rack. "Whoa," she mumbled. "You're definitely not a tease."

Bill chuckled and crawled his way up to lie next to her. "Nope."

She flung an arm around his neck and hooked a leg over his hip, snuggling her heated body tight against his. "Mmmm. I think my feet could get used to that kind of attention."

"Just your feet?"

"Maybe more than just my feet." Bill felt the smile against his throat.

Her fingertips began to tickle circles on his back. She kissed his neck, and her tongue found his earlobe again, making his skin erupt in goosebumps. He pulled her closer, and she responded by pressing her hips tighter to his. She felt so good against him. Granted it had been a long time since he'd held anyone close, but this was Laura. _Laura_. And now that she was here in his arms, it seemed that things could never be any other way.

Laura pushed herself up so she was straddling his hips. She leaned forward on one arm and kissed him while her other hand explored his hair, his neck, his chest. He slid his hands up her sides to cup her breasts, and her kisses grew deeper. She tipped his chin to one side and attacked his throat - her teeth and tongue seemed to be everywhere at once. A rumbling growl escaped him as he surrendered himself to her mouth and hands. She shifted her weight so her slick heat pressed against him, and he groaned in spite of himself. She pulled back slightly to look at him, a slight smile on her parted lips and a wicked twinkle in her eye. She slowly and deliberately slid herself along his length. He groaned again, and her smile widened, looking a bit smug.

As she moved to repeat the maneuver, he grasped her hips and shifted his angle so that instead of rubbing over his length, she sheathed him. He might have enjoyed her gasp and look of surprise if he hadn't been totally overwhelmed by the liquid heat enveloping him. They were both still for a moment, adjusting to each other, memorizing the moment, relishing the intimacy. Slowly, they began moving together, finding a rhythm. Bill's hands began exploring again and a coil of fire wound tight within him. He wanted her, needed her – he could never have enough of her, not even now. He growled deep in his chest, wrapped an arm around her waist, and flipped them so she was beneath him. Her legs were open to him, wrapped around him, drawing him in. She met him stroke for stroke. Her hands gripped his shoulders, his back, his butt. She bit his shoulder and arm, licked his throat. Her breath and lips tickled his ear as she whispered things to him that his mind was too far gone to hear. White heat built and peaked – he buried his face in Laura's neck and called her name as he emptied himself deep inside her.

With a last shudder and a sigh, Bill collapsed slightly to one side so he wouldn't crush her. Laura ran her fingers gently through his hair and kissed his cheek.

"See?" she said. "I'm not a tease, either."

A chuckle tried to climb up out of his chest. "Nope."


	5. Chapter 5

**And winding it up now. Thanks for reading!**

**Please don't sue me.**

* * *

They rested together in silence after that. Bill pulled her close and made long trails up and down her back with his hands, marveling at her smooth skin and at the wonder that had just occurred. She plucked thoughtfully at his chest hair and traced his scar with a fingertip. Eventually she pushed away slightly.

"I think I need another shower."

"Mmm. In a minute. I like you like this."

She snorted. "What – sticky and sweaty and oh my Gods! I'll never get a brush through my hair again!" She sat up and tried combing through the masses of snarls with her fingers.

Bill regarded her with a critical eye. "It is a bit less...tidy...than usual."

She punched him in the arm and gave him the evil eye. "Not funny. I'm showering." She peered at him sidelong. "Coming with me?"

"Of course." Relief flashed across her face at his words. He reached out and took her hand. "Laura, this has been coming for a long time. We both know that. And now that we're here, I'm staying. With you. We'll work out the details later. Now let's go shower."

They went into the tiny head and squeezed into the shower. Laura knew it would be awkward as hell, but it was fun. She let him lather shampoo into her hair and soap her body from top to bottom. She was fairly certain her breasts and butt had never been cleaner. They took turns rinsing off, circling around each other under the spray, and sputtering and laughing when they inevitably got splashed in the face. Finally they stepped out of the shower and dried each other off. She smiled as she watched him walk naked through the room, on the hunt for their scattered clothes. They dressed, pausing for an occasional kiss or caress.

Laura found her hairbrush and attacked the rats in her hair. She sighed. This was going to be miserable. She could feel Bill watching her as she worked.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he said, but he put out his hand.

She handed him the hairbrush and looked at him curiously. He took her elbow and led her over to the couch. He sat, spread his knees wide, and pulled her down to perch between them. Very carefully, he began brushing her hair out, starting at the ends and working in sections. He worked gently, deftly straightening out even the worst of the tangles. She closed her eyes, relaxing as her scalp tingled pleasantly from his touch. Eventually he was able to brush smoothly through all of her hair.

He set the brush aside and said, "There. All better."

Laura turned to smile at him. "Thank you. That was wonderful."

He reached up to touch her cheek. "Anytime."

She took a breath, put her hands on his knees, and pushed herself to her feet. "Well. Time to put on my President face. I need to get back to Colonial One."

"I suppose so. I'll walk you to your shuttle," he said.

She stuffed her belongings into her travel bag, put on her suit jacket, and picked up her briefcase. Bill kissed her quickly and smiled before opening the hatch. They walked to the flight deck in silence. She tried to keep her face from showing what was churning in her heart. She glanced at Adama's composed expression from under her lashes and wondered if he was struggling as much as she. If so, he had a very good poker face.

When they arrived at her Raptor, the President turned to Adama and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Admiral. I believe we had a meeting scheduled for the morning?"

"Yes, Madam President, I believe we needed to go over the supplies requisition for the Astral Queen and the shift rotations for the refinery workers."

"Indeed." She refused to show even a hint of a smile.

"And one other thing," he added.

"Yes?"

"Next time you come over here for a workout, please warn me in advance!"

She smiled this time. Then she turned without a word and made her way into the waiting Raptor.


End file.
